Daming Yuanfu

Chapter 2448: Records of the Western Expedition (XV) Make it see enemies everywhere
The deep winter in Livonia was like a ferocious beast, biting the world in its huge mouth of ice and snow. Mikhail Skopinkhuisky exhaled a breath of hot air, which was immediately blown away by the overwhelming snow and wind.

The cold wind from the Baltic Sea carried broken ice chips, which pierced into the gaps in his armor like countless tiny steel needles, causing him to clench the Ming-style saber in his hand. The "Book and Sword" engraving on the handle had already been warmed by his body temperature.

This knife was given to him by Erdemutu before he went to war. At that time, the Crown Prince also said some words that neither side would take seriously in their hearts, but would certainly appear to take very seriously.

"Your Excellency, the Swedish dragoons have broken through the north gate!" The captain of the guards shouted, but the wind ripped him into pieces. His wolfskin earmuffs were covered with thick frost, and ice chips fell off as he spoke. "Their ship-borne mortars have already turned to bombard the main tower!"

Mikhail reined in the Don horse under his crotch. The white mist sprayed by this warhorse from the Ural steppe condensed into an ice net in front of his eyes. He looked up and saw the red brick walls of Riga glowing dark red in the twilight, like a huge curtain soaked in blood.

The blue and white flag of the Swedish dragoons pierced into the northwest city wall like a sharp blade. The soldiers in indigo uniforms were coming down the ladders one after another, and the short axes in their hands drew cold arcs in the setting sun, chopping at the Polish defenders who were trying to block the gap.

"Tell the brothers to deploy according to the 'Crane Wing Formation' taught by the Ming army." Mikhail's voice was low and firm, and his fingers ran over the newly engraved Rurik family trident emblem on the breastplate. "The fighting method should also be learned from the Ming army - let Longqing No. 2 start first, and then use the long-handled axe to 'clear the way' for the Swedes."

The captain of the guards took the order and left. The sound of gongs rose and fell on the ice. Two thousand axe-wielding infantrymen quickly changed their formation. The front row of soldiers knelt on one knee and held the Longqing Type 2 matchlock gun on their left hand supported by their knee. The inscription "Made in Beijing" on the gun barrel was faintly visible in the snow.

The soldiers in the back row inserted the long-handled axes into the frozen ground, and the Longqing II-style sword was placed on the bottom of the long-handled axes' unique arc and began to aim. They all had a Ming army palm mine hanging on their waists, which was shaking slightly with their movements. The Taotie pattern on the cowhide cover looked hideous and terrifying.

These palm mines were also allocated to them by Erdemutu before the expedition, with a total of only 5000. Erdemutu was not worried about leaking military secrets, because with Russia's current technical capabilities, it was impossible to copy them - they could not deliberately distribute the thickness unevenly on the iron shell to produce fragments of equal size when it exploded.

When the Polish defenders' matchlock guns emitted the first wisp of green smoke, the Ming army's improved "double-row round shooting" was like a torrential rain - the muffled sound of lead bullets penetrating chainmail came one after another. As the Russian army charged, palm thunder was thrown in large quantities, and the feathered hat of a Polish noble knight was blown off, revealing half of his scalp underneath, and blood winding on the snow into a strange totem.

Mikhail suddenly noticed that the Swedish dragoons were slowing down. It turned out that the ice on the stone pavement in the central square was too thick and the horses' hooves were slipping frequently. His eyes were stern, and he raised his hand and waved his sword: "Third Battalion, follow me!"

As he spoke, he kicked his horse's belly and led his guards to gallop to the east side of the square. There was an abandoned wine cellar there, and the wooden structure on the cellar roof could be a breakthrough point.

"Blow up the cellar roof with palm bombs!" As soon as Mikhail gave the order, three grenadiers leaped forward. With amazing arm strength, the ceramic bombs in their hands drew a graceful arc and hit the beams on the cellar roof and exploded. Amid the flying sawdust and broken ice, the wine that had been sealed for many years flowed out like a dark red stream, forming a winding "blood river" on the ice.

Amid the exclamations of the Polish defenders, Mikhail's axe-wielding infantry rushed in like a black wave. The crescent blades of their long-handled axes split the wooden door open and engaged in fierce hand-to-hand combat with the defenders.

At the same time, Carl Philip, the commander of the Swedish dragoons, finally discovered Mikhail's intention. He rode over, pointed his lance at the entrance of the cellar and said, "Your Excellency the Duke, are you going to take all the credit for yourself?"

Without even turning his head, Mikhail accurately split the throat of a Polish soldier with his saber: "I just don't want our Swedish friends' horses to slip on the wine." His tone was a little playful, but also sharp. "After all, we still have to save some face for the Poles, don't we?"

Carl Philip was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter: "You are indeed as interesting as the rumors say, a descendant of Rurik... Your Excellency the Duke, you know that we have the same blood."

He waved his hand to signal the dragoons to follow, his boots making sounds on the ice. "But I must remind you that what our King wants is the port of Riga, not the face of the Poles."

Mikhail smiled but did not answer - the port of Riga? I'm afraid His Royal Highness would rather leave it to the Poles than agree to give it to you.

The battle lasted until midnight, and when the white flag on the main tower of Riga was finally raised, Mikhail stood by the fountain in the central square and watched the Polish city defense commander kneeling in front of him. The man's chain mail had been chopped into shape, and the blood and snow on his face made him look miserable.

"Why stop?" Carl Philip's dragoons also arrived. He took off his helmet, revealing his blond hair soaked with sweat. "You could have been the first to climb the main tower."

Mikhail wiped the blood off his saber and glanced at the bodies scattered across the square: "Because I need to let the Poles know that the Rurik family of Russia is back, but we are not barbarians."

He paused and looked towards the port controlled by the Swedes, where a ship was slowly approaching. However, it was hard to tell at night whether it was a merchant ship or a Swedish warship. "Besides, excessive killing will only make the Ming Dynasty think that we are not 'civilized' enough, right?"

Carl Philip raised his eyebrows and nodded thoughtfully. Both of them looked at the top of the main tower at the same time. When the Russian Rurik Trident Flag and the Swedish Three Crowns Flag were raised side by side, the muffled sound of the shallow ice breaking in Riga Harbor came from afar, as if the shackles of the old times were collapsing.

Mikhail touched the Ming-style jade ring on his left hand and suddenly whispered, "Tomorrow, remember to ask your sailors to bring more good wine. After all, we need some 'lubricant' at the negotiation table."

Carl Philip laughed and patted him on the shoulder: "You are indeed a pragmatic politician, Your Excellency the Duke. Perhaps we Swedes should learn from you how to remain elegant and hold the sword tightly on the ice."

The snow was getting heavier, and Mikhail looked at the snow, but his mind was clear. He knew that the fall of Riga was just the beginning, and the long-handled axe and matchlock in his hand would eventually become Russia's bargaining chips in front of the Ming Dynasty. The ice and blood at this moment would be the paving stones for him to ascend to the pinnacle of power - just as Prince Erdemutu said: "War is to create qualifications for us, not achievements."

At the same time, the main force of the Ming-Russian coalition forces in the south did not stop in Smolensk, they continued to march westward for several days.

On the ice field thirty miles north of Minsk, the prelude of the blizzard was like the low roar of a giant beast, rolling up the fine snow to weave a gray curtain between the sky and the earth. The nine-flag white banner of Erdemutu fluttered in front of the central army tent. The golden thread of the word "Ming" in the center of the flag was covered by snow particles, but it still shone coldly in the dark clouds.

The 30,000 Ming-Russian coalition troops formed a "two dragons emerging from water" formation, like two giant steel pythons lying on the ice. The muzzles of the 36 No. 3 guns were all facing south, and the bronze animal head pattern on the gun barrel was faintly visible under the cold-proof felt cloth - that was one of the emblems of the Jinghua Arsenal, and at this moment it was glowing with a faint blue metallic luster in the wind and snow.

"Check the temperature tube again." Erdemutu lifted the bearskin curtain, and the white mist he exhaled instantly condensed into ice crystals. "The temperature dropped by more than ten degrees last night. The firing rate of flints may drop by 30%. The fuse of the artillery also needs special care."

The captain of the guard nodded immediately, turned around and shouted to the soldiers behind him: "Inform all camps that each cannon is equipped with a double matchlock dried with saltpeter, and the gunners must take turns to warm their hands every two quarters of an hour! Also, tell the brothers to pay attention to protecting the flints of the muskets, otherwise you can't blame others if they don't fire!"

Ile Duqi's light cavalry patrolled the left wing. The Qihe light cavalry's war horses were covered with double-layered felt blankets, and the horseshoes were wrapped with coarse linen to prevent slipping. The Mongolian Taiji's mountain armor flashed with tiny gleams. He suddenly reined in his horse and turned to the central army tent, shouting, "Prince, look!"

In the direction of the Berezina River in the distance, a group of black-armored cavalrymen were marching on the broken ice. The winged cavalry flag in the front was only a bare wooden pole, and the silver wing decoration had long been torn apart by the war in Smolensk. The white flag on the top of the flagpole was crooked in the wind and snow, like a scarred corpse. Next to the white flag was another flag, but neither Erdemutu nor Ilduki recognized the emblem on the flag.

"It's the flag of the Polish envoy." Alexey Stroganov's carriage rolled over the ice ruts, and the chain mail of the commander of the special command army was covered with ice. "If nothing unexpected happens, it should be Władysław Koniecpolski, a great nobleman in Krakow, whose territory controls the salt trade between Poland and Hungary."

He paused, his eyes sweeping across the two armies, "But you see, the remnants of the Winged Hussars escorting him only have 200 men, and their horses are so skinny that their ribs can be seen. It's obvious that the horses they had earlier were lost, so they had to temporarily find a group of inferior horses to make up the numbers."

Erdemutu looked towards the south, suddenly raised his hand to take off his gloves, and pressed his palm on the cold gun. The coldness of the metal quickly rushed up his arm, but he seemed not to feel it, and said in a deep voice: "Let the artillery battalion expose the gun array, and the special command army set up a three-stage attack formation. Tell Yilduzhi Taiji to send light cavalry to go around one mile behind the enemy and prepare for an outflanking move." Alexei raised his eyebrows: "Is the prince going to show off his power to the Poles?"

"No, this is to show them our sincerity." Erdemutu sneered, "Let Koniecpolski know that we could have crushed Poland into dust, but we chose to negotiate - this is the real deterrent."

When the Polish envoy's convoy approached within a mile, the Ming army's artillery column suddenly lifted the cold-proof felt cloth at the same time, and the thirty-six No. 3 guns opened their eyes like sleeping steel behemoths. The musketeers of the special army completed the formation at the same time, with the front row kneeling, the middle row half-crouching, and the back row standing. This was clearly a simplified version of the Ming army's "three-stage attack" tactics, but it could also form an impenetrable firepower wall on the ice field.

Koniecpolski's carriage stopped suddenly, and the velvet curtains of the carriage shook violently. A remnant of the Winged Hussars rode forward, but his face turned pale the moment he saw the Ming army's formation - he saw ice on the armor of the Ming cavalry, but no one was shivering from the cold, as if they were steel warriors growing out of the ice.

Obviously, they didn't know that the Ming army wore cotton-padded jackets made of Anxi long-staple cotton under their armor, which provided them with much better cold protection than theirs.

"Tell the Polish envoy," Erdemutu turned and walked into the tent, "I'm waiting in the central army tent. Also, find a cleaner body of the Polish Winged Hussars and place it in front of the tent - let Koniecpolski know that we didn't miss even the enemy's bodies when we cleaned the battlefield."

Alexei followed the order and left, his boots making a harsh sound as they rubbed against the ice. Inside the tent, Erdemutu reached out to fiddle with the saber on the table, his cold eyes reflected on the blade.

"Your Highness, the special envoy has passed the battlefield." The report from the personal guard interrupted his thoughts.

Erdemutu looked up and saw Koniecpolski's carriage slowly approaching in the snow outside the tent. The Polish white eagle emblem on the shaft was frozen, with its beak drooping, as if mourning for the hegemony that was about to disappear. He reached for the sword at his waist, and the bronze animal head on the handle was icy cold, reminding him of what the master had said before: "What you can't get on the battlefield, you won't get at the negotiation table."

Heavy snow fell. In the Ming army formation, someone's flintlock accidentally went off, and the lead bullet flew past the roof of the envoy's convoy. Koniecpolski's carriage jolted violently, and a suppressed cry was heard. Erdemutu's mouth curled up slightly, knowing that this perfect "accident" had been in his calculations.

On the ice field, the coldness of steel and the power game interweave, and a negotiation that will determine the fate of Eastern Europe is about to begin in the prelude of this blizzard. Not far away, Minsk is now curled up in the ice and snow, like a lamb to be slaughtered, witnessing how the iron encirclement of the Ming-Russian coalition crushes the last dignity of Poland.

When Koniecpolski entered the central army tent, the ice crystals on his bearskin hat had not yet melted. His sable cloak was dripping with ice water, leaving dark stains on the wool carpet, but he ignored it and knelt on one knee in front of Erdemutu: "Your Highness, the Honorable Prince Shunyi, on behalf of His Majesty the King of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, I beg you to negotiate a truce."

"Triumph negotiations?" Erdemutu played with the parts of the musket in his hand. "Before the war, didn't you claim that the Winged Hussars would flatten Moscow?"

Koniecpolski turned pale, but quickly regained his composure: "The cost of war is too heavy. Your Majesty is willing to exchange for peace on reasonable terms."

Erdemutu suddenly slammed the parts on the table, raising a cloud of dust. "Reasonable? Are the 20,000 Polish corpses in Smolensk only worth the few carts of wine you brought?"

The atmosphere in the tent suddenly froze. Alexei spoke at the right time: "Your Highness, Mr. Koniecpolski is a sensible man. The wine must be just a reward for the troops... Why don't you let him state the conditions?"

The Polish envoy pulled out a parchment from his sleeve and said in a low voice: "First, His Majesty the King will announce that he will give up all claims to the Swedish throne. In exchange, Sweden must return all Polish territories occupied during the Livonian War."

Ildukzi sneered: "What kind of claim to the throne is that? Will the Swedes agree to this? They spent a lot of effort to capture Riga."

"Compared to Livonia, which is close to Poland's core ruling area, Charles IX must be more concerned about the legitimacy of his Swedish throne." Koniecpolski glanced at Ilduzzi, who did not understand the importance of the "right to claim the throne", and said, "Our second condition is to cede Polotsk and the land east of the Dnieper River, including Poltava, Kharkov and other places, in exchange for a ceasefire between Ming and Russia..."

"Wait." Erdemutu suddenly interrupted, "East of the Dnieper River there are not only Polish crown territories, but also Zaporizhia Cossack pastures. For example, the Kharkov you mentioned, I remember it belonged to the Zaporizhia Cossacks... How do you cede it?"

The envoy smiled bitterly: "The Federation only has suzerainty over Zaporizhia, so their land... needs to be 'acquired' by Russia itself."

There was a moment of silence in the tent, and then Erdemutu suddenly laughed. He certainly understood the Polish calculations: the Zaporizhia Cossacks were known for their bravery, and even if Russia occupied the east of the Dnieper River, it would most likely be dragged into a long grassland war, and by then it would likely become a melee between the Don Cossacks controlled by Russia and the Zaporizhia Cossacks who had lost the support of Poland in the east of the Dnieper River.

It is even possible that Russia will have a large border with the Ottoman Empire in the Black Sea coastal area, which will lead to a direct military conflict between Russia and the Ottoman Empire, which is still basically at its peak. Obviously, this is what Poland hopes to do by "using barbarians to control barbarians."

"Okay, I agree." Erdemutu's laughter stopped abruptly. "But Poland needs to bear all the military expenses of this war, a total of 500,000 zlotys. If Poland can't pay this money, I can generously allow Poland to pay with amber, honey, sheepskin and other materials."

Koniecpolski's pupils shrank suddenly. "This is impossible! The Sejm will never approve it..."

"Then let Sigismund III pay from his private treasury." Erdemutu's voice was as cold as ice. "Otherwise, my next target will be Warsaw."

The negotiations lasted until late at night, and finally an agreement was reached under the burning rosin torches. Koniecpolski's quill pen paused several times on the parchment, and his fingertips trembled slightly every time he wrote words such as "cession" and "vassalage". When he signed his name, a dull sound of ice cracking suddenly came from outside the tent - the ice of the Dnieper River cracked in the night wind, just like the shattered Eastern European hegemony of the Polish-Lithuanian Federation.

"There is one more thing." Erdemutu suddenly said, "The Stroganov family will open a trading company in Poland, and they need to enjoy the same trading rights as the local nobles."

Koniecpolski looked up and met Erdemutu's cold gaze. He suddenly realized that this negotiation was never the end, but the beginning of Ming Dynasty extending its tentacles into Poland - as everyone knows, the Stroganov family is just the white glove of Ming Dynasty.

"As you wish." He whispered, "But I beg Your Highness to show mercy and allow the Polish envoy to bring the remains of the fallen soldiers back home."

“Of course.” Erdemutu waved his hand. “But remember, if Poland dares to start another war, I will not leave Poland with a complete corpse.”

When Koniecpolski's convoy disappeared in the snow, Ilduzzi, who had been in charge of southern affairs for the previous six months, suddenly spoke up: "Your Highness knew that Zaporizhia was a trap, so why did you agree to it?"

Erdemutu looked towards the south. He seemed to see the Zaporizhia Cossacks' horses migrating across the grassland under the starry sky. "Because the Master told me that Russia must always have enemies, otherwise their blades will turn towards the Ming Dynasty."

Ilduzzi suddenly realized: "I see, that's how it is. It seems that even if the Zaporizhia Cossacks are pacified, southern Russia will not be peaceful... Let me guess, the prince will definitely provoke a war between Russia and the Ottoman Empire, right?"

Erdemutu touched the secret letter from Gao Youshi in his arms and smiled slightly: "If we want Russia to always rely on us, the best way is to make it see enemies everywhere."
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PS: The Russian plot has come to an end, and the next chapter will return to the Ming Dynasty.

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